


Dulcis Vita

by Daslebensmittel



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: A lot of Latinized names, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Author knows NOTHING about Ancient Rome or Gladiators, BAMF Charles, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is a Sweetheart, Gladiators!au, Historical Inaccuracy, I AM SORRY, M/M, Protective Erik, This got way too serious, mild depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13078590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daslebensmittel/pseuds/Daslebensmittel
Summary: Maximus has lived most of adult his life as a gladiator, biding his time for a revolutionary moment. Things change as he receives a new pupil, talented and fierce, but also too beautiful for his own good.





	Dulcis Vita

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deeranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Deeranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2017) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Erik Lehnsherr is a prime gladiator, doing very well both in the ring and amongst his fellow gladiators in the Ludus (gladiator school) where his word is usually law. However one day Charles Xavier, a young prisoner of war, is brought into the Ludus and immediately the many gladiators take an interest in him. But so does Erik Lehnsherr. And when he instantly takes the newcomer under his wing to protect him from his friends, then said friends suddenly aren’t so friendly or respectful anymore. And a big fight is coming up, leaving Erik worried about Charles’ safety. And his own. 
> 
> BONUS if:  
> Violence, smut and/or non-con
> 
> Some words for quick reference:  
> ludus - gladiator schools  
> lanista - owner/trainer of gladiators at a ludus  
> stigma - a tattoo branded on slaves  
> tunica - a tunic  
> pteruges - gladiator’s skirt  
> Dulcis Vita - a pleasant life

“Open the gates. We have new prisoners.” 

The iron gates to the cells creaked open as soldiers dragged the chains linking all the fresh prisoners from the latest conquest. A line of scraggly men entered following the armored soldiers into a cave-like hall of cells. The foremost soldier, a Praetorian guard, stepped up to a gruff man in a leather loincloth who sat on a stone bench, polishing his helmet.

“Maximus, you have orders to distribute the new blood to their respective teachers.”

The man called Maximus looked up at the soldier with tired eyes, barely concealing his contempt. He paused his work on the metal and glanced at the row of tattered men, young and old, all sagged to one side or the other from the fresh branding of _stigma_ they must have received. Maximus gave a cursory nod. The soldier then directed his the rest of his men to evacuate.

 

The rest of the gladiators watched as Maximus stood from his perch to examine the prisoners. They seemed to all have come from different places. No doubt the rest of them have either perished or chosen to be body slaves.

“Welcome to Ludus Magnus. I am Maximus. I am a gladiator myself, but our _lanista_ has entrusted me the task of training prospective gladiators. I understand you are long ways away from home. You did not choose to be here. The gods have chosen for you, however. And let me be clear, whether you wish to or not, you _will_ have to fight for your life.” 

Maximus stared out into the eyes of the prisoners, all watching him with weary and apprehensive eyes. He detected despair in some, defiance in others. A young man with piercing but beautiful eyes glared at him with disgust. Maximus almost wanted to smile. There had been time when he was in their shoes. He would rather let them free, let them run away from the life of a gladiator, but at what cost? They would be captured and murdered without a chance to fight back. Not everyone would survive, but with blessings from the gods, a few of them may thrive as a gladiator and live to see another day.

 

Maximus called upon the most elite and experienced of his fellow gladiators and distributed the prisoners among them. He chose a few for himself to teach, including the feisty young one with the bluest eyes.

Maximus gathered his new pupils and learned their names and place of origin. He knew it to be futile to familiarize himself with his pupils, as most often, they did not last long. However, he wanted them to have a connection with another human being, even for a short time, before they ultimately perished in the arena. 

After assigning most of them to their new quarters, Maximus finally approached the blue-eyed boy.

“What is your name?”

“What is it to you?” spat the boy.

“You are correct. It is of no importance,” Maximus agreed. “However, to have even a miniscule chance at surviving as a fighter, you must have a name. You need not share with me your real name, but choose a Roman equivalent for the audience to call you.”

The boy frowned, as if he doubted Maximus’s advice, but he contemplated a while before he replied, “Carolus.” Maximus faintly smiled, repeating it in his mind.

“Very good, Carolus. And where are you from?”

“Britannia,” answered Carolus. Maximus was surprised at the ease with which he had answered. The boy seemed to have relaxed slightly.

“Carolus, the boy from Britannia. With a face like yours, you may well become an audience favorite.”

“I am not a boy,” Carolus interjected, indignant. “I am already twenty years of age.”

“My apologies, Carolus,” chuckled Maximus. “I am but nine years your senior, but I consider anyone younger than me a boy. It is an unfortunate habit. I like you. You have much fire within. I look forward to training with you. Go to your quarters and rest. I will go with you, as it is near to mine.”

Carolus glared at Maximus as he released him from his chains. He reluctantly followed Maximus into another corridor leading to the sleeping quarters. Carolus settled on the stone bed with a thin sheet without a word to Maximus. Settling in his own bed, Maximus watched as Carolus shifted, chasing sleep.

  

Starting the training of unwilling gladiators was always the most difficult part. Maximus vied to instill in their minds the necessity of a determination to survive. Among them, Carolus learned quickly the techniques of fighting, but lacked the will to attack a fellow man. Maximus, confident of his ability to defend himself, had taken to personally fighting Carolus to encourage a more certain strike of the sword. 

“Carolus, you will not wound me. I am not a favorite of Rome for no reason. Come now, aim at me more surely. I will block it.” 

Sweating through his thin _tunica,_ Carolus panted. He took a moment to watch the others train before he charged at Maximus with his short sword. Maximus blocked him just in time with his rectangular shield. Carolus frantically attempted to stab Maximus to no avail. Pushing Carolus back forcefully, enough for him to topple onto the ground, Maximus stood up, brushing the dust off his own tunica. He extended a hand to Carolus, who looked frustrated and angry.

“I like the energy, but you need to control it better,” Maximus suggested.

“I do not want to do this. I hate being here. What are we, animals? Trained to fight and kill each other?”

Maximus studied him quietly before he took a huffing Carolus onto the wooden bench at the edge of the practice arena.

“Listen, I know you do not like the path you have been thrown into. No one here does. However, is it not better to fight for your life than dead, left for the vultures?”

Carolus gave no answer. He simply concentrated on the hilt of his short blade. If Maximus were not as agile as he was, he would have worried about the young man’s tension, coiled as if ready to jump at any moment.

“You are angry. I understand,” Erik whispered. Carolus still did not meet his eyes. Maximus forged on, even quieter, “but you are not alone. Everyone here shares your sentiments. We simply make the choice each day to do our best with what has been given. Do you want to get out of this _ludus_? Fight. Excel. Earn your freedom.”

“How?” Carolus finally asked, beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes.

“True focus lies between rage and serenity, Carolus. You have potential. Use it.”

Maximus clapped Carolus on the shoulder. Blinking back his tears, Carolus nodded, making short strands of dark brown curls fall in front of his face. Maximus felt guilty, like he was corrupting something pure; but he also wanted to protect Carolus and the only way to achieve that was by teaching him to fight back. He watched Carolus stand and walk back to their space, then followed him soon after to train again.

 

Carolus participated in a few contests since he came to Ludus Magnus and won them all, which was sadly not the case for many of the other prisoners who had come with him. Maximus was proud to see in Carolus the finesse and technique he had taught executed so elegantly. Carolus had a grace about him, which Maximus lacked, but he showed no refrain in piercing his opponent’s throat, just as Maximus did. 

“There are not many who remember, but I came from Germania,” Maximus began after training one day. They sat watching the other gladiators continue their practice, quenching their thirst with water horns.

“Those Romans pillaged my village, killed my wife and child. Then they forced me to fight my brothers – fellow refugees who had no choice but to kill in order to survive. You do what you have to do right now, Carolus. Kill if it means that you will live. But when you have earned the audience’s respect and can spare mercy on your opponent, I pray that you do.”

“Is that what you do in your fights? Show them mercy?”

“Yes. And I have found hope through it; I have become a favorite of the arenas through my acts of benevolence. A little ironic from a people of a nation that grew through violence,” Maximus chuckled, “but there is humanity yet in them.”

They sat in companionable silence. Maximus could not remember the last time he had had a pleasant conversation with a person, where he could be honest and share a small part of his life.

“My real name is Charles,” Carolus suddenly said. “I lived in a small village on the islands with my family. I had a sister, united by fate. She had sought refuge in Britannia. We were happy. But now she has been dragged with me here, my parents are killed. Someone told me she has become a gladiator herself, fighting as an exotic entertainment for the emperor. I am not certain whether I should be happy for her.”

“I am sorry,” Maximus said sincerely.

“No need, Maximus. It is not your fault,” Carolus replied with a wet smile.

“Erik.”

“What?”

“That is my true name. You may call me that in private.”

“Erik,” Carolus repeated as if a sacred word. “Thank you, Erik. I would love it for you to call me Charles in private too.”

They made sure to call each other by their Roman names when they practiced or dined in the presence of others, but in their private conversations, they called each other by their birth names, a secret only for them. It would be dishonest of them to say that this practice did not forge a stronger bond between them.

 

Though Charles improved with every fight, a tricky fight with a champion from another ludus left Charles to suffer more cuts and bruises than usual. He was lucky the fight ended quickly with Charles impaling the other champion; the opponent had swung his sword with madness, no method, producing cuts and gashes of various degrees of severity. Erik tended to his wounds personally, now that Charles was his sole pupil. He assessed the lacerations, marring Charles’s pale skin. The opponent had long perished, but Erik could not help the sudden burst of anger upon seeing the damage to his pupil. 

“Ouch!” yelped Charles, when Erik dabbed a wound a little too harshly with ointment.

“I am sorry, Charles. I will be gentler,” he whispered.

“It is all right. It is a light punishment, for I have embarrassed you today,” Charles said bashfully.

“Embarrassed? Charles, you did splendidly. I am very proud of your quick progress. You have learned well and possess good instincts. I am thankful for it.”

Charles simply smiled, looking up at Erik through his lashes. Grinning back a little crookedly, Erik kept his promise, taking the utmost care in treating Charles. Charles wore only his _pteruges_ and knee greaves during battles, not only exposing him to injuries on torso and arms, but also his thighs. While treating an especially long slash above his knee, Erik found the _stigma_ that branded Charles as a slave damned to the gladiator life, destined to be killed sooner or later. Without thinking, he caressed the protruded and burned skin, mourning for Charles and his fate. Erik only stopped when Carolus retracted his leg from his touch.

“I am sorry, Charles…” Erik apologized, looking into Charles’s face. To his surprise, Charles was blushing, all the way down to his chest. When Erik looked further down, he saw that the pteruges was slightly lifted.

“I… I am sorry, Erik,” Charles began. He covered himself with his hands and closed his legs. Maximus stopped him, holding onto his ankles. Carolus gasped.

“Charles. If I am misunderstanding you, please tell me this moment. If I am not, come meet me in the stables tonight, just when _Luna_ begins to shine brightly.”

Charles gulped once and nodded. Erik gave his leg a final stroke before he left the gasping young man on his bed.

 

 

Erik waited inside the stables. All the horses had been put away for the night, some of them already asleep from a hard day’s training, some of them still nibbling on their hay. He waited with trepidation, watching the mood begin to glow. What if Charles decided not to come?

He watched warily as a hooded figure came toward the stables, illuminated only by the moonlight. When the figure lifted his head, Charles’s pale face was revealed, with an equally nervous smile for Erik. Erik ushered in Charles to the stables and embraced him.

“I was afraid you would not come,” Erik admitted, breathing Charles in.

“How could I not?” Charles replied, laughter lacing his voice. Overwhelmed, Erik cupped Charles’s face and kissed him against the stable wall. Charles acquiesced quickly, opening his mouth and meeting Erik’s tongue with evenly matched fervor. Impatiently, Erik guided Charles to an empty stall, breaking from him only to close the gate to it.

Charles settled himself on the stack of hay and removed his hood. He was wearing a clean white tunica for slumber, at least as clean as he could have washed them. Erik stared in awe at Charles, properly for the first time. He had only stolen glances at the young man, afraid of the consequences. Charles was beautiful – Erik knew that those arms and legs had developed strong muscles, but their skin looked creamy and soft, nonetheless. And Charles’s face, he could only describe as divine: with his glittering blue eyes, long, rounded nose, and cherry red lips.

“Charles, you are stunning,” Erik breathed.

“You are not so bad yourself,” Charles chuckled. “Are you going to leave me here alone all night on this hay stack?”

Needing no further encouragement, Erik gently pushed Charles onto the hay and settled himself above Charles. Holding himself by his arms, Erik gazed into Charles’s eyes, slowly brining his hand to his face.

“You have beautiful eyes, Erik. They shine in two colors in the sliver of moonlight.”

“Me? You are Ganymede. Hyacinth. No, they do not deserve to be compared to you,” Erik declared, kissing him again. Charles blushed at the flattery, eyeing Erik skeptically, but he seemed pleased anyway.

Unable to wait any longer, Erik caressed Charles’s thighs, nudging them to open further. Moaning almost inaudibly, Charles spread them, pulling Erik in closer by his head. Their breaths quickened as Erik kissed down Charles’s face, reaching the juncture of his neck to the shoulder, suckling. Charles ran his fingers through Erik’s shorn hair, scratching with his nails every so often. Erik guided his hand up Charles’s thigh, underneath his tunica to his naked groin. Charles moaned breathlessly at Erik’s touch. Erik stroked him gently, swiping his thumb at the head and fondling his balls in turns. Charles writhed, gasping, while Erik pushed up his tunica and tucked in under his chin. Releasing his lips from Charles’s neck, Erik latched onto a pert nipple.

“Erik!” Charles breathed. Erik did not answer him, favoring to focus on his task at hand. Erik gathered Charles’s secretion onto his fingers - rubbing them down his perineum, circling his entrance. Charles whined at the sensation and bit his lips. He involuntarily pulled in his legs, only to trap Erik closer to him.

“I have never done this with a man before, Charles. But the noises you make, the look on your face… I almost regret not taking you sooner.”

Charles simply panted in response, as Erik had begun to slowly breach him. Capturing his lips once more, Erik pushed his fingers in gently, rotating them and prodding them. Before he added more, Erik paid attention to the other side of the chest. He teased Charles by lightly licking the sensitive nub, before he gave in the sucked it too, at Charles’s frustrated cry. He caressed Charles’s flank when he shuddered at the added fingers, drawing small circles with his thumb.

“Almost, my love. Bear with me just a little longer,” Erik soothed. Charles nodded with a whimper, sheen of sweat all over him. Erik thought he looked ethereal.

 

When Charles seemed to have relaxed, Erik lifted his own tunica to reveal his own formidable erection. Charles took one look and gulped; Erik did not know whether it was from anticipation or trepidation. Perhaps both. He held onto Charles, meeting his eyes, as he delicately entered him. Charles shivered and whined, spreading his legs further instinctively.

“I always thought you had good instincts,” Erik joked. Charles huffed, rolling his eyes.

Once seated, Erik stilled his hips so that Charles could adjust. They kissed open-mouthed, tasting each other. Charles seemed to taste inexplicably sweet; Erik doubted he could be said of the same. Charles then wrapped his legs around Erik and squeezed. Taking the hint, Erik began to move languidly, driving in and out at a torturously slow pace. Charles shook with each thrust, opening his mouth to release a silent moan.

“Make noise, love. Just into my ear.”

Charles draped his arms around Erik’s head, holding him close. As Erik began to pick up the speed, Charles moaned into Erik’s ear, still very quiet, but high. Erik lifted Charles’s legs further up, changing their angle.

“Erik! Please,” Charles whimpered. He was gasping for air. Grunting hard himself, Erik drove into Charles frantically, savoring each moan Charles offered him. With the sounds of skin against skin and frenzied breaths filling their ears, they felt like they were the only souls in the universe - with only each other as company, with all the time in the world.

A final arch and a soft cry later, Charles spent himself against the planes of Erik’s abdomen, squeezing Erik tightly from within. Erik followed soon after; one final thrust bringing them impossibly closer. Erik petted the damp strands of hair from Charles’s flushed face. Gazing into each other’s eyes, they kissed again, unwilling to let go of the blissful moment.

 

 

Their clandestine meeting under the moonlight in the stables seemed like a distant dream to Erik. Except for the fact that there were now more shared glances, secret smiles, and stolen kisses. They had to carry on as if nothing had happened, repercussion of any kind – be it death or even separation – unthinkable. Summer had come and gone, with the foliage changing into beautiful autumn colors.

They were cleaning their weapons close to each other when a surly man, in what must have been expensive clothes, walked in.

“Maximus,” he growled out, as he puffed smoke with each syllable.

“Lycus. Long time no see,” Erik greeted, standing up. He pulled Charles up with him. “Carolus, this is the _lanista_ of our ludus, Lycus Adamantius. A former prime gladiator and my own mentor.”

“How, how do you do, sir,” Charles bowed.

“Who is this?” Lycus asked, raising a brow.

“This is Carolus. He joined our school in the spring.”

“Ah. So this is Carolus,” Lycus remarked with a gauging stare. Erik did not have a good feeling about this. “Carolus, do me a favor and fetch some wine for us.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Watching Charles walk out of the communal quarters, Lycus motioned Erik to sit on one of the benches. He himself remained standing, taking a long drag out of his pipe.

“What is his birth name?” Lycus asked.

“It… It is Charles,” Erik answered hesitantly. Lycus said nothing for a long time, only focusing on the pipe in his mouth.

“You let yourself get too close, Maximus.”

“I do not understand,” Erik lied.

“People have noticed. And the worst of the scumbags noticed.”

“Explain,” Erik requested. Lycus gazed at him with melancholy eyes.

“Erik. You and I have an understanding of what we want to achieve at our ludus. You have served me and the gladiators well, training them to the highest level and treating them with respect. However, keeping them protected from outsiders was also a part of your job. That did not mean guarding them in your embrace, hiding them from their battles.”

Erik froze. Lycus only called him by his birth name when things were serious, and he could not remember the last time that had happened. He knew that no one had seen them in an actual embrace; Lycus simply using a metaphor. However, it was true that Erik had been reluctant to send Charles out onto battles of late. He had become worried, though he knew Charles was capable. Charles had only protested the first few times and then gave up, preferring to be spared of engaging in violence.

“Senator Sebastianus sent his men to find me. He had seen Carolus fight a few times. He wants to buy him as a domestic entertainer.”

“No!” Erik exclaimed, standing up. Lycus simply shrugged.

“Listen, bub. Just because I do not come to the ludus daily, it does not mean I know nothing of its goings on. I keep track of all the new gladiators that come in and perish.”

“I know that. You send messages to me every week, with wine stains on the parchments. I wish you would come in more often, physically,” Erik ground out.

“My lack of presence is not what brought this upon us. One of the other things I was informed of was the fact that you _coddled_ Carolus. I allowed you to continue this practice, because I trusted your judgment. Now, that bastard of a man Sebastianus took note of your partiality and wants Carolus for himself. He and his group of senators have always hated you, me, and our ludus. It is as much a vengeance on our school as it is his lust.”

Every word Lycus uttered stabbed him like a dagger. How could he have been so foolish? Erik crumpled on the bench, burying his face into his hands.

“I cannot let Charles be sold that way.”

“I know that. But there is very little we can do here.”

 

Charles walked back in that moment with a decanter of wine and a goblet. Seeing Erik in distress, he almost sprinted to him, to comfort and console him. However, remembering that Lycus was standing nearby, Charles stopped himself and instead offered the wine to Lycus.

“Thank you, Carolus. Unfortunately, it is time for me to leave. Maximus. I leave you again in charge of the ludus during my absence. This time, however, I plan on travelling to Thessaloniki to see some family. I shall be gone for a long time and will not be able to send you my regular messages. I entrust upon you all official duties and decisions to be made, in my stead. _You are in control of the ludus during this time_. Do you understand?”

Lifting his head slowly, Erik met Lycus’s level gaze. Lycus gave him the smallest of nods and waited for a Erik’s reply.

“Yes, sir.”

“And Carolus, I request you to aid him. He will have many responsibilities.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a final nod to both of them, Lycus left.

 

As soon as Lycus left, Erik shared the new revelations to Charles. He was disturbed at the senator’s proposition, but it soon turned into anger and resolution to prevent it from happening.

“But Erik, what can we do?” Charles asked, stroking Erik’s hand.

“Charles, it is very risky, but the only option we have is to run. Lycus and I originally planned to have a revolution. But with prized warriors dying at random, it has been postponed indefinitely. Let me tell you, the Romans learned a lesson from Spartacus. Now, Lycus is too old and tired. He will not return from Thessaloniki. Sebastianus has been targeting our ludus for years. If we reject his offer to buy you, he will execute us all. It is time we relieve it of the burden.”

Charles bored into Erik’s eyes, like what he was suggesting was ludicrous. And to his credit, Erik knew full well that it was not an easy feat, the chance of their death extremely high. Then realizing something, Erik grabbed a hold of Charles’s hand.

“Charles, you do not have to come with me. In my selfishness, I planned to lead you into mortal peril. I am sorry. I know going to Sebastianus is not ideal… But he will provide you a safe home, away from all this gladiator nonsense,” Erik explained. He could not help that tears began to form.

“Erik, how can you say that to me? I would much rather die with you than go be a plaything for that man. Please Erik, take me with you. I will fight the guards to the death if need be. Let us seek freedom together.”

Risking a short kiss within the confines of Erik’s chamber, they embraced each other tightly.

“We will leave together, then. Lycus has a stash of money hidden for me in such cases. My love, I cannot believe that I have you by my side. I have been a caged animal for so long. I thank you for inspiring me to escape. I will not lie to you and say that we will live happily ever after, but if it is to enter the heavens with you, it will all have been worth it.”

“May the gods bless us, Erik.”

**Author's Note:**

> Will they survive??? Who knows... Certainly not I. :D
> 
> Hi. Hello. So I just want to apologize, because _I_ was being selfish in claiming this one... I really wanted to do it, but didn't think I could, and then ended up choosing to work on it just two days before the end of the Madness! Like a certified mad person!! I sincerely apologize to the prompter, who gave a really evocative prompt, but I hope you enjoyed it a little anyway... :) 
> 
> Thank you and I AM SORRRYYYYY
> 
> [Tumblr!](https://daslebensmittel.tumblr.com)


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